


Maybe a Love Song

by Kitsfics



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gay, LGBTQ Character, Lesbian Character, M/M, Muggle AU, Possibly Underage Drinking, Smut, Yearning, forgot to add tags for smut sorry, gender fluid, in college, let's all move into a house!, mlm, mlw - Freeform, non-binary, smoking pot, trigger for parents not accepting LGBT child, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsfics/pseuds/Kitsfics
Summary: Inspired by this post: https://waterlilyrose.tumblr.com/post/611438638479310848/wespers-types-of-people-as-golden-eraI love a good collegiate, big boarding house style story where all of the characters get to mingle and I really get to focus on character-development and fluffy romance. 💜What if you were the only oneWhat if i was your matchWould you stay a whileAnd watch with meWhile all of the seasons passOh, what if you are the only oneFor me
Relationships: Cho Chang/Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	1. Draco: To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra

**Author's Note:**

> All of your favorite HP characters in one house! Mostly focuses on Draco, who has been ostracized from his family for coming out as non-binary and deciding to change his major from pre-law to creative writing. Very soft and gentle Draco, writes poetry, yearning.
> 
> Hermione is the mom of the house, of course, Harry and Ron the big goofy dads, Luna and Cho are the baking, painting, furniture restoring lesbians, and Neville and Ginny will fulfill my favorite relationship trope of big goofy guy who is completely smitten for the girl and would just follow her around anywhere with hearts in his eyes.
> 
> Hermione is black, Ron is gay, Harry, Neville, Ginny, Cho are bisexual, and Luna is a lesbian. Draco is non-binary, and probably also pan or sexually fluid as well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top  
> I climbed the tree to see the world  
> When the gusts came around to blow me down  
> I held on as tightly as you held onto me

When Draco arrived at the house, he thought he had surely made a mistake. He stood with one foot on the ground, the other still poised over the pedal of his bike. Part of him was tempted to get back on, keep on pedaling.

He sighed and fully dismounted from his bike. He no longer had the luxury of depending on his family; he was on his own now, and this was the first housing situation he’d found that fit his budget and was less than a mile from campus.

“It’s only a year,” he grumbled to himself.

He leaned his bike on the little gate at the end of the tiny fenced yard. Despite his initial impression, the closer he got to the house, the more he liked it.

It was admittedly a very old house, at least a few centuries. Drains rusted and clogged with the first autumn leaves, roof tiles discolored, paint in need of a fresh coat. A few window A/C units dotted the faced, and Draco didn’t even want to think of the state of the plumbing. But the fence was in good repair, didn’t squeak, and the yard was trim and well-kept, although upon second glance he saw it was almost all moss and clover. He could imagine the snooty, judgmental looks of his neighbors if they had seen this yard, but he liked it, it was kind of quaint. Besides, wasn’t he trying to get away from that kept life?

Under the windows on the right of the door, the last of the summer flowers bloomed in profusion, filling the air with their heady perfume. To the left of the front door, a wide porch sprawled, covered in bicycles, spare bicycle parts, and low wicker chairs. He walked up the stairs, expecting them to groan, but pleasantly surprised, and rang the bell, which sounded inside the house with a low “bong.”

After barely a few seconds, a pretty young woman in a white button-down shirt and pleated skirt answered the door. Draco tried to keep his face composed, because she was really one of the most striking people he’d ever seen. She was on the tall side, probably 5’10” or 5’11”. She had a beautiful curvy figure that Draco tried to ignore, dark brown skin that reminded Draco of polished wood, and a glorious mane of chocolate brown curls. Her light brown eyes took him in at a glance.

“Draco?”

“Yes, sorry. I’m here about the room.”

Her eyes flicked past him to his bike leaning on the outside of the fence. “Is that your bike?”

He nodded.

“You might want to bring it up to the porch. You wouldn’t be the first to have something stolen in broad daylight.”

Draco nodded and stepped quickly down the steps, lifting the bike over the fence. He carried it up the steps, fitting the front wheel into an empty slot of the bike rack.

He looked back at the young woman. “Didn’t realize it was such a bad neighborhood.”

She shrugged one shoulder in a gesture Draco found unspeakably elegant and cool. “I mean, no one’s been stabbed, as far as I know. Stuff just goes missing sometimes, you know? I’m Hermione, by the way.” She held out one slim hand.

Draco surreptitiously wiped his hand off on his jeans before taking hers, afraid of a sweaty palm. Her hand felt warm in his, soft. She had long slim fingers and her nails were short and trim, no polish.

She showed him into the house. The inside was much nicer than the outside, cozy and clean. Standing in the foyer, he looked to his right and saw a dining room, piled high with textbooks, paper, pencils, a few laptops. Straight ahead, a regal staircase led up to the second floor. To his left, a small sitting room furnished with cozy overstuffed chairs, a great profusion of end tables, bookcases overflowing with books, and several mismatched lamps. A small hallway to the left of the staircase led to the back of the house. He could see the kitchen at the end of the hallway. All of the rooms were connected by large, wood-framed doorways through which you could have pushed a refrigerator sideways with room to spare.

“We have the dining room, which is mostly used for studying, you can see. We have two living rooms.” She led him down the hallway and pointed out the second living room, separated from the first by closed sliding doors. Two low couches stood at right angles, facing an ancient TV. “We call it the TV room,” she clarified. “Front of the house is quiet space, TV room and kitchen are designated for fun and hanging out.”

Draco couldn’t help but grin at her when her back was turned. There was something very motherly and orderly about her. She seemed like the kind of person who had a nice, almost neurotically-ordered planner, but still made sure to pencil in fifteen-minute sessions labelled “relax” or “free time.”

She showed him the kitchen, not big, but lots of counter space. He stooped to inspect the chore chart on the fridge. “Wow, people really use these?” he laughed.

Hermione sighed, hands on her hips, examining the dirty dishes in the sink with distaste. “Trust me, it’s the only way to keep this place from sinking into chaos.” Her eyes flicked over the chart, down the column marked Wednesday, found the row labelled “dishes” and followed the row to the name in the far-left column.

She reached over and pounded on the wall. “Ron, dishes! And we have a guest!”

The door opened and a sleepy-looking giant a few inches taller than Draco stumbled out, scratching his auburn stubble and yawning. He was far broader in the shoulders than Draco, well-muscled, with the attitude of a wildcat that has just been woken from a nap, mostly because he had just been. He wore flannel pajamas and a shirt that proclaimed “Aggies Know Hogs”. “Don’t yell at me! I was going to do them before I went to work.”

He fixed Draco with a lopsided smile, waving his broad hand. “Ron. You play soccer?”

“Um, Draco. Yeah, I played in high school.”

“Draco’s thinking of renting the attic bedroom,” Hermione said, seeming to disapprove of Ron’s tangent.

Ron shuffled to a cookie jar on the small kitchen table, lifted the lid, broke into a grin. He reached in and took two chocolate chip cookies.

“Want one?” he offered to Draco. They did look tempting, but Draco declined out of propriety.

“You should take the room. Luna bakes, Neville gardens, and Hermione keeps this ship sailing along.” He grinned at Hermione who swatted at him playfully before heading back to the front of the house, calling over her shoulder, “Dishes!”

Ron shot a mock salute at her back. “Yes, Captain!” He winked at Draco before retreating back to his room. Draco followed Hermione to the staircase. The sound of ‘90s grunge, muffled by the walls, reached them as they climbed the stairs.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry! Quiet hours start at 9 PM on weekdays, 10 on weekends, unless we’re having a party. He only ever plays it that loud in the afternoons before work.”

“Where does he work?”

“Hog’s Head Pizza. Delivery driver, mostly at night. He brings home extra most nights, if you’re ever hungry.”

On the second floor, five doors greeted them on a small landing. Hermione pushed open the middle door, which had been slightly ajar. “Bathroom. Kind of small and there is only the one, so mind the schedule.” She tapped a board next to the bathroom with all six names of the roommates and a different 30-minute increment written next to each name. Draco saw Hermione had the bathroom from 6:30 to 7 AM every day, which fit his image of her as a Type-A morning person.

The bathroom itself was clean and pleasant, a narrow sink, with a shelf next to it to add more counter space, a claw-foot tub with a shower fixture and a plastic-y yellow curtain.

“We usually keep the door open if no one’s in there, so no one accidentally walks in on anyone. That said, make sure to lock the door. Ron is not good with knocking.” She pulled the door half-shut again, then pointed to the other rooms.

“Left to right, we have me, Harry, Luna, and Cho.” She turned back to

Draco. “I completely forgot to ask for your pronouns, by the way.”

Draco felt a lump rise in his throat. No one had ever asked him that before. He thought for a minute. “Um, he/him, I guess.”

She smiled, nodded. “I’m she/her. Let me know if they change, ok?”

He nodded, looked down. Hermione went on briskly, and Draco was grateful for the distraction.

“Harry works in a bike repair shop, I think he’s at work now. I work at the library on campus, Cho works at the campus coffee shop, as I’m sure you know. We get a nice discount because of her. Luna works at the school paper and at the Star as well.”

She led the way up the second set of stairs, narrower than the first, to a little landing at the top with two doors facing each other. One was open.

“Neville, you in there?”

A lanky young man with a mop of dark brown hair and dimples leaned back in his office chair, then stood and extended his hand.

“Neville will be your flat mate, if you decide to move in. The rooms are separate, of course, and you’ll never know he’s here, he’s so quiet.”

Draco looked around at the bright, cozy room, and it seemed every stable surface had a potted plant on it. “You’re the one with the green thumb, huh?”

Neville laughed. “Yeah, I love plants. Used to have them all over the house, but Hermione made me cut down. So if you ever want a few, I have plenty.”

Hermione smiled. “They were starting to take over a bit.”

She turned to the other door and pulled it open. “And this would be your room.”

An empty bedframe stood in the corner, but the room was otherwise unfurnished. The room was much brighter than Draco thought when he read the listing for an attic bedroom.

He crossed to the dormer window, which was set into the wall, due to the sloping of the ceiling. It had a wide ledge in front of it. Draco could see himself curled up there this winter, with his journal and a cup of coffee.

He opened the closet door next, small, but then, he’d never had a lot of clothes anyway.

He turned back to Hermione. “Could I move in Friday?”

“Sure. The deposit and first month is due when you move in. $200 each. Rent is due on the first of the month. If you’re ever going to be late, just tell me as soon as you can so I can work something out with Albus, the landlord. Utilities are included, Albus pays all of that, but it’s $15 for cable and internet, due to me by the 10th.”

Hermione led him back downstairs to the entryway, to a desk that stood just inside the dining room. She opened a drawer and pulled out a small stack of paper stapled together.

“Here’s the Roommate Agreement. It’s a list of house rules, and a Renter’s Contract, detailing what’s due and when and under what circumstances Albus can keep your deposit. Bring it back with you on Friday. If you have any questions, here’s my cell.” She wrote her phone number at the top and handed the packet to him.

“I’m so glad you’re moving in! Cho speaks highly of you. You do have some place to stay until Friday, right?” Her gaze was suddenly appraising and sharp. Draco froze.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? No one’s using it, we wouldn’t charge you extra. I have an inflatable mattress you could use.” Her eyes were piercing now, like she wanted to look into his head and pluck out the information.

“No, I’m fine. Promise,” he mumbled.

Hermione smiled and the interrogation was over, replaced by her open, warm gaze. “Ok. But text me if you need anything. And let me know when you’re coming. You have furniture?”

Draco thought of his huge, heavy mahogany furniture in storage. He could bring his desk and mattress, the frame looked like it would hold a full-size mattress, and the desk was from Ikea, light and compact.

“Just a mattress and my desk. Can I use that bed frame?”

“Sure. And Luna might have an extra dresser stashed away that you can use.”

Draco looked confused for a second, then looked around and pointed. “Oh, is she the decorator?”

“Yes, she finds old furniture and fixes them up. She usually just gives them away after. How are you getting your stuff here?”

Draco shrugged. “Just rent a U-Haul, I guess.” But how much would that cost?

Hermione was already shaking her head, taking the papers back and writing another phone number at the top. “For a desk and a mattress? They’ll gouge you out of like a couple hundred dollars, especially this weekend. That’s Ron’s number, he has a truck. Text him on Friday, not too early. Oh, and we’re having a back-to-school party on Saturday. Please invite your friends. Nothing formal, just hanging out.”

Draco was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. He nodded and stuck the agreement in his messenger bag. He saw Hermione look it over appreciatively, and tried not to let her see the Gucci logo. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything, just held her hand out again, and Draco shook it before leaving.

Hermione shut the door behind him with one last wave. Draco carried his bike down the steps and over the fence, taking a moment to stare up at the house, up at the window that would soon be his. Even though it was a house he would soon be sharing with 6 other people, it felt like this was the first thing that would belong just to him.

He mounted his bike and began to peddle back to the motel.


	2. Luna: Fade Into Me by Mazzy Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stranger's light comes on slowly  
> A stranger's heart without a home  
> You put your hands into your head  
> And then smiles cover your heart

**Luna: _Fade Into Me_ by Mazzy Star**

Luna hummed to herself as she clicked her mouse pointer rapidly, redoing the front-page layout the editor had sent her. She liked him, had worked with Cedric for a few years now, but he was terrible at layouts and design. She had tried to tell him nicely, but he seemed to be impervious to her suggestions, so she always just ended up redoing them before they went to the printers.

Luna heard a text ping on her phone, but she tried to ignore it. Otherwise she would start checking her Twitter, and Tumblr, and it would be five or ten minutes before she got back to her task at hand. Better to just ignore it until she was done. She focused on blowing a bubblegum instead, letting it pop.

“Luna, I told you not to chew gum in the newsroom.”

“I’m not chewing gum,” she said breezily, smacking her gum.

“I can hear you!” Cedric called from the other room, at the editor’s desk.

“Must be someone else.”

“There’s no one else here. What are you doing?”

Luna saved the file and closed out of it quickly. “Nothing.” She started logging out of the computer as footsteps approached her. Luna checked her phone as she blew another bubble.

It was from Hermione, informing her that they had a new roommate for the attic room, and asking if she had any spare furniture. Luna unlocked her phone, smiling at the picture of a hedgehog that was her wallpaper, and sent back a text. _Sure, I have tons. How about a dresser and a nightstand? Do you think he’d like some shelves?_ And hit send.

She looked up as her bubble popped. “Hi Cedric,” she said airily as she locked her phone and tucked it into the top pocket of her denim shirt.

“Luna, what are you doing?”

“Trying to decide which nightstand to give my new roommate. You think he would like something distressed or sleek and modern?” She zipped up her backpack and slung it over one shoulder as she stood.

“I don’t know. Were you messing with the front page again?”

“Nope. Just tweaking. It looks great!” She took out her headphones, plugged them in and settled them over her ears, hitting play on Mitski.

Cedric opened his mouth and his lips started to move, but Luna just smiled and waved. “Sorry, can’t hear you! See you on Monday!”

Luna walked the five blocks home, texting Hermione pictures of nightstands, asking which ones she thought Draco would like.

_The distressed one, I think. Although he has kind of a polished exterior, I’m sure that’s not who he really is._

_What’s he like?_

_Parents are rich, I think. But I don’t think he’s got a lot of money, if he’s looking at rooms in this neighborhood. I think he had a break with his family. He’s kind of cute._

Luna smiled, texting back rapidly, _What’s he studying?_

_Pre-law, I think._

By the time Luna received this text, she was at the house. She dropped her backpack by the door and kicked off her shoes, although she knew Hermione hated when she did this, and headed straight back to the kitchen. She took out a bowl, flour, sugar, yeast, and started mixing up a dough for cinnamon rolls. After kneading the dough for fifteen minutes until it was elastic and smooth, she placed the dough in a bowl, covering it in beeswax wrap and placing it on the back of the stove. She took out her phone and set an alarm for one hour.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and took off her headphones, settling them around her neck. Hermione was smiling at her, breathing in the warm, yeasty aroma.

“Cinnamon rolls?” Hermione asked.

Luna nodded, grinning. “I thought he would like them.”

Hermione’s smile widened. “He’s not coming back until Friday, goose.”

“Oh. Well, text him. Maybe he’d like cinnamon rolls.”

Hermione considered. “He did seem pretty lonely. And it’d be nice to get to know him before school starts.”

Luna grinned, and Hermione cautioned her. “Don’t get your hopes up. He might be busy.”

Luna bounced out of the kitchen; baking always made her feel warm and contented inside. Hermione’s voice called after her, “Don’t forget your shoes and bag!”

“Ok, ‘Mione!”

“And don’t call me that!”

Luna giggled. “Yes Hermy!”

“I mean it!”

Luna grabbed her bag and shoes, running up the stairs to her room, which was her favorite place in the world, next to the kitchen and Cho’s room. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and texted Cho.

_Did you hear, Draco’s moving in!_

Luna flipped on a switch, and fairy lights, strung up around the room in slightly haphazard fashion, began to twinkle. She flipped on her Bluetooth speaker, and Mazzy Star began to play, Luna singing along:

_I wanna hold the hand inside you_

_I wanna take the breath that’s true_

Luna picked up a book of poems, fell onto her bed, opened the book at random and started to read. Someone rapped on the door.

“Come in!”

She grinned at Cho, who dropped her book bag and fell onto the bed on top of Luna, grinning at Luna’s shrieks. Luna rolled onto her back, kissing Cho and wrapping her arms around the other girl’s neck, looking up into her dark brown eyes.

“You making cinnamon rolls?” Cho asked, “I could smell the yeast as soon as I opened the door.”

“For Draco,” Luna smiled. “I want him to feel at home.”

Cho smiled and kissed Luna again. “You’re so sweet. How’d I get so lucky to have the sweetest girlfriend in the world?”

Luna looked down at Cho, taking in her unofficial barista uniform of black tights, black shorts, and black T-shirt. “How’d I get so lucky to have the hottest girlfriend in the world?”

Cho bit her lip, giggling. “You know how flustered I get when you do that!”

Luna giggled, cupping Cho’s ass in both hands. “I know, that’s why I do it.”

Luna’s phone chirped, a text from Hermione. Luna’s face lit up. “Cho, he’s going to come over for dinner! We can have cinnamon rolls!”

Cho smiled, leaning her head against Luna’s head. “That’s great! I’m so glad he took the room.”

“Me too. Oh! I forgot to tell you the best part. Hermione said Draco is cute!”

She showed Cho the text, and her mouth dropped open. “Wow, I never would have thought he’d be her type!”

“Is he straight?”

“I’m not sure. We didn’t really talk much, just had that one class together. But I’m definitely either fixing him up with Hermione if he’s straight, Neville if he’s gay, either or both if he’s bisexual, and your cinnamon rolls if he’s asexual.”

“You’re just an incurable romantic,” Luna sighed dramatically, combing her fingers through Cho’s hair.

“I just want everyone to be as happy and in love as I am with you,” she smiled, leaning in to kiss Luna again, her fingers tracing up Luna’s bare legs, questing up under the skirt of her cotton, flower-print dress. Luna squeezed her eyes shut, deepening the kiss, her tongue lightly lapping against Cho’s. Cho’s fingers pushed Luna’s underwear aside, her fingertips gently brushing against Luna’s bud, making Luna gasp gently.

Cho grinned, pulling down Luna’s underwear, Luna quickly helping her. “So wet,” she whispered in Luna’s ear, dipping two fingers into her warm walls, making Luna quake slightly. Cho kissed Luna again, deeply, until Luna felt like a puddle of moans and breathy gasps. Then Cho crouched down between Luna’s legs, kissing the inside of her thighs before pushing apart her pink lips, and flicking her tongue lightly over the sensitive mound.

“Mm, so rosy, like a little rosebud,” she murmured, making Luna giggle, then taking the rosebud in her mouth and sucking gently until Luna gasped. Luna’s slender hand dropped down to Cho’s head, her fingers tangling in Cho’s hair.

Cho began to lick in earnest, listening to Luna’s moans and adjusting her pace accordingly. Luna pushed her hips into Cho, and Cho looked up at her, and Luna’s heart melted at the sight of her girlfriend’s dark, passionate eyes. Cho flicked her tongue sharply several times, and Luna peaked, her back arching, crying out softly as a song by Morrisey began.

After Luna’s muscles relaxed, Cho wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, came back to lay down beside Luna.

“What’s with the music,” she asked, kissing Luna’s neck until the other girl shivered.

“I felt like listening to artists that start with M.”

Cho laughed, and shook her head. “Makes perfect sense.”

Luna curled up against Cho, closing her eyes. She would take a quick nap before seeing to her gorgeous girlfriend’s needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I thought this was going to be a fluffy little fic, but then a whole-ass sex scene just showed up all by itself! How'd that get there? Also, I'm working on a Spotify playlist. I'll post it in the main notes at the beginning of the fic when it's ready.


	3. Harry: To Be Alone by Hozier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But I don't know what else that I would do  
> Than try to kiss the skin that crawls from you  
> Then feel your weight in arms I'd never use  
> It's the god that heroin prays to

When Harry returned home from his morning shift at the bike shop, he found the house uncharacteristically lively and awake. He took a deep breath upon opening the door. Luna was baking something.

Hermione was in the kitchen with Luna, who was sprinkling cinnamon and brown sugar over a rectangle of buttered dough. Harry grinned at Luna as he poured himself a glass of water. “Cinnamon rolls. Special occasion?”

Luna started to roll the dough until it formed a long snake-like cylinder. “Hermione found a new roommate for the attic bedroom. He’s coming to dinner.”

“That’s exciting. Cho’s friend, right? How did she know him again?”

“They had the same contract law class over the summer. They worked on a project together, and Draco mentioned he would need a new place to live soon. Seamus had just moved out, so Cho said she would mention him to Hermione.”

Luna took a knife and carefully cut the roll into twelve portions, laying them in a baking dish. Harry admired the brown spirals as Luna covered the dish with a hand towel and left it on the back of the stove to rise.

Luna smiled with satisfaction, removed her apron, patterned with flowers and cherries, and ran back up the stairs to her room.

Harry glanced at the empty sink, then the door to Ron’s room. “He up yet?” he asked casually, hoping to sound like it wasn’t really important to him. Hermione’s smile told him he probably hadn’t been successful.

“He came out for a bit, did the dishes, went back to his lair. He probably fell asleep.” Hermione stood and left the room, saying nonchalantly as she went, “You should probably wake him up. He might be late for work.”

Harry stood at the sink, still holding his water glass. He was torn between two prospects, of going up to his own room, where he would no doubt pine over Ron, or just get up the guts to open the door to go talk to him. Or not talk, as was more likely.

He’d started hooking up with Ron over the summer, Ron who had previously been the sole holder of the title of Harry’s Best Friend, now held the slightly conflicting title of either Harry’s Best Friend with Benefits or Harry’s Boyfriend. It had never been made clear.

Harry had only realized he was bisexual four months ago. If he was being honest, it was his long-simmering, barely repressed sexual tension for Ron that had made him realize he was attracted to men as well as women.

Then, a month ago, he got drunk and made out with Ron. More accurately, he’d pawed at Ron and licked his face in an attempt at French kissing while proclaiming that Ron was the prettiest boy he’d ever seen. Ron had laughed, steered him into his own bed, since climbing stairs was not in Harry’s power at the moment, then gave him some water and ibuprofen before going to sleep on the couch.

At some point during the night, probably because the couch was tiny, Ron must have come back to sleep in the bed, because Harry woke as the sunlight creeped in, fortunately free from headaches, with one arm around Ron and his morning wood digging into Ron’s back.

He shivered a little as he thought of his first time with a man, The Weeknd blaring so no one else would hear them, all sweet sloppy kisses and sticky fumblings. He came early from the friction, apologizing, cheeks blazing. But Ron was really sweet about it, told him there was no rush. He finished himself, with Harry’s help, then Ron held him until they fell asleep again.

That had been two months ago, and they’d had more successful sexual encounters, but they never managed to have a conversation about what this was, a conversation Harry desperately wanted to have.

Were they still friends? Was it just sex? Was it something more? Every time Harry tried to bring it up, Ron always distracted him with a kiss. The sex was amazing, the best Harry had ever had, but he didn’t know how much longer he could go without knowing. He wished he were different, wished he could be happy with this, whatever this was.

He set the glass in the sink, walked the four paces to Ron’s bedroom, knocked and then opened the door without waiting for a response, shutting it softly behind him.

He stood for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Ron’s bedroom was actually a converted sun porch, with a door that opened onto the backyard. Heavy blankets hung over the windows, since Ron often worked late at night and slept most of the morning.

He was a very heavy sleeper who didn’t mind the cold, two reasons why he had picked this room when they all first moved in as freshmen two years ago. He didn’t mind if anyone was noisy in the kitchen, and the lack of proper insulation didn’t bother him in the winter.

Harry had meant to start a conversation right away, but melted at the sight of his best friend, sprawled on his back, red hair mused, shirt riding up to expose the solid torso Harry loved, not too skinny like Harry, but not too muscled, either. Harry kicked off his shoes and slid into bed next to Ron.

Ron turned toward Harry, pulling Harry into his chest, nuzzling and laying a sleepy smack on his perpetually ruffled black hair “Morning,” he murmured without opening his eyes. He breathed deeply, nose buried in Harry’s hair. “Cinnamon rolls?”

And now Harry had a semi. Well, there goes the conversation.”

“Yes,” Harry replied. “And it’s not morning. It’s 1 PM.”

“Close enough.” He leaned forward to kiss Harry and every last intention of talking fled Harry’s mind as Ron pushed Harry’s lips apart, his tongue slipping inside to dance with Harry’s. Ron’s hand wandered down Harry’s stomach, slipping inside his jeans. Harry fumbled to unfasten them and slip them down to free his cock.

Ron murmured against Harry’s mouth, turning to trace kisses down Harry’s jaw and neck.

“When do you have to leave?” Harry managed to ask.

“Fifteen minutes,” Ron murmured, scooting down to kneel at Harry’s waist. Harry started to ask if Ron needed to start getting ready, but Ron’s tongue lapped at the head of his penis and all rational thought fled Harry’s brain. He moaned when Ron took all of him into his mouth, feeling his tip butt against the back of Ron’s throat. Ron came back up grinning, reaching over to where his phone was charging on the nightstand and hitting play. Delicate guitar and whisper soft vocals filled the room as Ron knelt again, running his tongue up and down Harry’s length, wandering down to take Harry’s balls into his mouth one by one, sucking gently, then dipping his head to lick the tender skin beneath his sack.

Harry groaned, head thrown back, eyes half-shut. Ron clamped his mouth around Harry’s cock, applying gentle, but consistent suction as he pumped his mouth up and down Harry’s shaft. Harry looked down now, locking eyes with Ron as his mouth descended until his lips were flush with Harry’s hips. His throat contracted around the head, and Harry moaned.

“I’m close,” he warned, and Ron receded, pumping Harry with his hand until he came, grunting and moaning as his seed spilled onto Ron’s chin. Ron caught the thick cum in his mouth and on his lips. Harry reached down and wiped away a pearl of cream from Ron’s stubble. Ron caught Harry’s finger in his mouth, sucking the cum off, swallowing deeply.

_It feels good, oh it feels good_

_It feels good, oh it feels good_

_It feels good, oh it feels good_

_Just to be alone with you_

Ron sprawled out beside Harry, leaned over to kiss him.

“What about you?” Harry asked.

Ron smirked. “Should have got here earlier. I already rubbed one out. Besides, I have to go.”

Harry lay back on Ron’s bed, feeling the last dribbles of his cum stiffen on his thigh. He pulled up his boxers and fastened his jeans again, but made no move to get up. He watched Ron pull off his pajama pants and t-shirt, pull on a pair of jeans and his Hogs Mead branded t-shirt, Harry’s eyes roamed up the red-head’s legs and torso. Ron grinned at him when he caught Harry looking. He grabbed his wallet and keys, sat down on the bed to unplug his phone and pull on his shoes. He turned to Harry and kissesd him, one hand on Harry’s cheek. Then without another word, Ron stood and left through the door to the kitchen.

The door opened inward into the bedroom, and faced away from the bed. Harry heard Luna and Cho’s voices before Ron shut the door. Harry lay a few minutes more, breathing in Ron’s scent, then he sat up, pulled on his own shoes, and left through the door that opened onto the back yard. He walked around the other side of the house from the kitchen, opened the front door quietly, and slipped upstairs to his room before Ron left the kitchen. Just like he had every time before.


	4. Hermione: Grey or Blue by Jaymay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I watched you very closely I saw you look away  
> Your eyes are either gray or blue I'm never close enough to say  
> But your sweatshirt says it all with the hood over your face  
> I can't keep staring at your mouth without wondering how it tastes

Hermione took the pan of enchiladas out of the oven, breathing deeply to appreciate the smell of spicy red sauce, warm tortillas, and bubbling cheese. She set the pan down on the stove, and hit two buttons to shut off the timer and turn off the oven.

Luna bounded into the kitchen, Cho and Neville right behind her. Luna lifted the cover off her pan of cinnamon rolls she had placed on the back of the stove to keep warm, inhaling the sweet fragrant aroma.

“Mmm, the enchiladas look wonderful,” Luna beamed.

“Thank you, Luna! Run and get Harry and tell him dinner’s ready. Cho, Neville, will you set the table?”

Hermione took a saucepan of Spanish rice, fluffed the rice with a fork, and set the pan on a trivet on the table. She felt a buzz in her pocket, took out her phone to find a text message from Draco.

_I'm outside. Can I speak to you for a minute before dinner?_

Hermione left the kitchen and went to the front door. Opening it, she saw Draco standing in the yard with his bike, messenger bag, and a duffle bag sitting beside him.

Hermione felt her pulse quicken a little at the sight of him. He was tall and graceful, just past the awkward bony elbows and knees of adolescence. Her eyes slipped over his sharp cheekbones, pointed chin, and pale eyes with long eyelashes. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were green or gray. Pale hair, white as his pale skin, fell almost into his eyes.

“Hi,” she said, a little lamely.

His mouth broke into a half-smile, the closest thing to true mirth she had seen on his face. She promised herself that she would see him smile in earnest sometime soon. “Hey. I just wanted to check with you and make sure your offer to stay the night was still good. And if I could ask for it to be extended until tomorrow as well.” He paused. “I checked out of my motel.”

“Of course! Where are your things?”

He nodded to the duffel bag at his feet. “That’s all I have for now.”

Hermione’s heart melted. Just a small bag, really, probably a few changes of clothes.

“The rest is in storage,” he clarified, as if he read her concern.

“Ron will go with you in the morning to bring what you need. In the meantime, you can sleep on an inflatable mattress.”

Draco let out a breath, and his shoulders sagged with relief. Hermione was acutely aware that she wanted to put her arms around those shoulders, to pull him close. Something about him spoke of an unbearable weariness, and all Hermione wanted to do was comfort and hold and kiss him.

The moment passed. Hermione ran down the steps and picked up the duffle bag. Draco had frozen, and when Hermione straightened, she realized she was standing very close to him. He looked down at her, wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. Hermione could see his eyes were grey, flecked with pale green, fringed with pale-white lashes.

The front door to the house opened then, and Luna came bursting out like a cannonball with limbs. She cried his name as she flung herself at his midsection. Draco looked like he had just been shot, then looked down at the blond who had embraced him with shock.

Hermione laughed. “Luna, you scared us half to death.”

Luna let go of Draco, smiling. “Sorry, I’ve just been so excited to meet you! Cho’s told me all about you!”

“Come on, inside. The food’s getting cold,” Hermione tried to scold Luna, but couldn’t help smiling.

Draco pulled his bike up the stairs and parked it in the bike rack. Hermione handed him back the duffle bag and kneeled down to string a chain through the wheels of the bikes and secure it with a padlock. She smiled at Draco as she straightened. “Can never be too careful.”

They followed Luna into the house. Hermione made quick introductions. “Draco, you know Cho, and you’ve met Luna, sort of. You met Neville. I don’t think you’ve met Harry, though, Harry Potter.”

Draco nodded at Harry. “I think my dad knows your dad.”

Harry smirked. “If by ‘know’ you mean ‘cursed out across a court room’, sure.”

“Well, my dad’s an asshole. I’ll be the first to admit it.” Draco stuck out his hand and Harry shook it. Draco turned and saw Hermione’s confused look. “My dad’s a defense attorney. He and James Potter face each other every couple of weeks in court.”

Hermione nodded. She knew Harry’s dad was a public defender. “Well, let’s eat,” she smiled.

Hermione ended up sitting at the end of the table, Cho and Luna to her right, Neville and Harry at her left, and Draco sat facing her. She brought the enchiladas to the table, while Harry and Cho brought glasses and filled them with water, tea, or lemonade. Hermione picked up a spatula and started serving, one enchilada each to Neville and Luna and herself. Neville took over and served himself and Cho and Draco. Everyone helped themselves to an enchilada, rice, chips, and guacamole, as well as lettuce, black olives, salsa, sour cream, and queso.

“So Luna, did you finish that op-ed about campus housing?” Hermione asked, twirling a particularly long trail of melted cheese around her fork like spaghetti.

“Yep. Cedric said it was well researched and dynamically written. Then I did him the favor of fixing the front-page layout, and he scolded me.” She sighed wearily. “I can never please that man.”

“Did you do it behind his back again?” Cho asked, spooning more sour cream on her enchilada.

“Of course, he never lets me do it otherwise.”

Hermione chuckled. “You should stop doing him favors. It’s no skin off your nose if the layout is bad. That reflects on him, not you.”

Luna sighed again. “I know, it just bothers me.”

“What about you, Neville? What did you do today?”

“Finished registering for classes.”

Draco’s voice cut in quietly, “Just now? Didn’t most people register weeks ago?”

Neville grinned, ducking his head. “I wouldn’t say I forgot exactly. I had registered last week, but there was a mix-up with my job, and I had to rearrange my class schedule.”

“Where do you work?” Draco asked, taking a sip of lemonade.

“Campus bookstore.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of lame, selling over-priced textbooks to the kids who forgot to buy them from Amazon ahead of time and college t-shirts to parents. But it pays pretty well, and no late hours. I just have to work one Saturday a month.”

“I work at the movie theater, so weekends are pretty much all I work. But I also get to work the late shifts, and it’s usually pretty slow, so I get to do my homework. And I get to go for free.” Draco finished his enchilada and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Where do you work, Hermione?”

“The library.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Wow. That’s a tough gig to get.”

Hermione shrugged, but couldn’t help looking pleased. “Yeah, it is, I guess. Good hours, for the most part. They’re really nice about giving you a mix of hours, so no one just ends up working nights or weekends. And when you do work nights, you definitely get a lot of homework done. It’s my second year there, so I got a really good schedule this year.”

Neville finished eating, and stood up to take his plate to the sink. “You finished?” he asked Draco.

“Sure, can I help with dishes?”

“Of course not,” Hermione said, standing as well to start putting away the extra food. “You’re our guest. You won’t get added to the chore wheel until next week.”

Draco turned to look at the chore chart. “But I thought Ron was responsible for dishes.”

Hermione explained as she put away the shredded cheese and condiments. “Just kind of depends. Like, we’re not gonna leave all these dishes for him to do, especially since he wasn’t here for the meal. That would just be mean. We usually do our own dishes. Whoever’s on the chart for dishes is just responsible for the incidental dishes, you know, the glasses at the end of the day, when you use a knife to make a sandwich. They’re also responsible for emptying the dishwasher when it’s clean. That stuff.”

Luna washed the dishes and silverware, Cho scrubbed the enchilada pan, and Neville wiped down the table and counters. Once this was done, Luna brought the pan of cinnamon rolls to the table. She used a small spatula to separate the rolls, put one on a saucer and placed it in front of Draco.

He stared at it for a moment, like he was lost in thought. Everyone else took a cinnamon roll, no one else bothering with plates once the first one was removed from the pan, not even bothering to sit down. Hermione pulled a piece of the soft bready roll apart from the rest, and took a bite, enjoying the sweet cinnamon of the filling, the warm, wholesome taste of the bread, the gentle drizzle of vanilla frosting.

Draco finally took a bite of his cinnamon roll, savoring the taste, but still lost in his thoughts. A drop of frosting beaded at the corner of his mouth, and Hermione realized she was staring at it, wishing she could lean over and kiss him, tasting the frosting on his lips.

Hermione looked away at the same moment Draco looked up at her. She pulled off another piece of cinnamon roll, then looked back up at him. “You have a little frosting here…” she pointed to the right corner of her mouth, taking the chair to his left as she did. Draco reached up to the right corner of his mouth.

She laughed, “No, other side. There, you got it.”

“Wonderful cinnamon rolls, Luna,” Neville said, standing and carrying his roll with him upstairs. Luna and Cho stood also, Luna carrying the pan back to the stove and covering the rolls again with a piece of wrap to keep them from drying out.

Suddenly, Hermione realized they were alone. She swallowed another bite of the roll.

“What were you thinking about, just now? You looked like you were a million miles away.”

Draco shrugged, his lips still curved, but she wouldn’t have exactly called it a smile. He looked a little nostalgic, a little melancholy. “I was trying to remember the last time I had a meal like this with my family. If my parents ever baked something from scratch, just to show me that they cared.”

He smiled at Hermione, but there was definitely a mist in his eyes. “They aren’t bad people, although my dad is a first-rate asshole. They just didn’t put a high premium on this stuff, quality time, you know? They’re both very career-driven.”

Hermione could empathize. Although her own home-life had been very different, she’d had plenty of friends whose parents were hardly ever around, who hung out at her house just a little more than usual. Even at 11 or 12, she knew how special her family was, what with the steady supply of her dad’s home baked cookies and her mom’s good advice and big hugs that she gave everyone, as long as they protested only a little.

Maybe she was inspired by her mom, but she suddenly did something she almost never did. She leaned over to Draco, lay her head on his left shoulder, and put her left arm around his shoulders. It was a quick hug, something Luna wouldn’t have thought twice about, but Hermione, despite being raised by two people who were self-proclaimed “huggers”, was not a hugger. Not at all. She prized physical autonomy and had delighted in exerting her authority to refuse physical contact at a young age.

But she knew how important physical contact was. She’d felt it herself freshman year, before she made any friends, going home for the first time a month after classes started and letting her mother pull her into a hug, so touch starved she momentarily pushed back her natural reluctance to be held.

In the brief seconds before Hermione leaned back, her nose was just inches away from Draco’s neck. She inhaled slightly, her nose filling with the scent of his cologne, cloves and pine needles and something slightly citrusy. She leaned back abruptly, bumping her head on Draco’s chin.

“Ow!” he complained, rubbing his jaw.

“Sorry!” Hermione cried out, holding out her hand to his in a comforting gesture, but not quite touching his hand. “I just wanted to-”

She trailed off. He was laughing, letting a brilliant smile dazzle her. He had dimples. She realized she was smiling back at him, she probably looked like an idiot, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She had just started wondering why she’d hit his chin when she started to lean back, he had been looking away from her when she leaned in. Had he turned to her, intending to reciprocate her touch, or even just to be closer to her?

She dashed down the rest of her cinnamon roll, stood up quickly and went to the sink to rinse of her hands, hoping to hide the flush creeping across her cheeks. “I should show get that mattress for you now, and some blankets. Do you want me to help you carry up your bags?”

Draco took his empty plate to the sink, rinsed it off and put it in the dishwasher. “No, that’s ok. I can manage.”

“Ok, I’ll grab everything and meet you up there.”

Hermione ran up the stairs to her room. She got a flash of her face in the mirror on the back of her door, her face flush, eyes bright. She went to her closet, took down a set of sheets, a spare blanket, a pillow and pillow case. She took out a tote bag, stacked the bedding on top, and left her room, taking the stairs up to Draco’s room. The door stood slightly ajar, she rapped on the door as she pushed it open.

Draco was standing in the middle of the room, duffle bag sitting on the bed frame, his messenger bag on the night stand, the only other piece of furniture in the room. The nightstand was traditional, two drawers with mis-matched crystal drawer pulls. The wood was dark brown, a thin coat of ocean blue that had been sanded down, gently enough not to hurt the wood, just enough to let the color of the wood shine through. Draco drew his hand across the smooth surface.

“Did Luna bring this?”

Hermione nodded. “She refinishes them as a hobby, gives them away.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Hermione unpacked the bag, laying the plasticy mattress out on the floor. “She’ll be happy to hear that. It might seem like she makes friends easily, but she actually doesn’t take to people very quickly. But she’ll love you forever if you’re nice to her.” She hooked up the pump to the mattress, flipped on the switch, and a low whirring filled the room as the mattress slowly inflated. Hermione stood up.

“When the sound revs up, that means it’s full. Just turn it off and put the cap back on the valve. Oh, and Cho has a cat, she might scratch on the door. Just didn’t want it to scare you if it’s in the middle of the night. The guy who had this room, Seamus, he would leave the window cracked open for her to come in at night. Let her in if you want, but if she scratches for a few minutes and you don’t open the door, she’ll bug off eventually.”

Draco nodded. “I like cats. What’s her name?”

“Snitch.” She smiled. “I’m just downstairs, let me know if you need anything. Wifi password is Potterrocks, with a capital P, _rocks_ spelled the normal way.”

“Thank you again. I really appreciate this.”

Hermione nodded. “We’re glad you’re here. Have a good night.”

She left him standing by the bed, looking at the nightstand. She pulled the door shut, but didn’t latch it. As she walked down the stairs, she heard the motor on the air pump rev up. Slowly, she heard Draco’s footsteps move away from the nightstand, and switch off the motor.


	5. Ginny: Orphan by Ashley Monroe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody told me what I should do  
> When the world starts to rumble and shake under you  
> How does an orphan find their way home?  
> Reach out with no hand to hold  
> How do I make it alone?

Ginny opened the back seat of her car and slung her last bag in before slamming the door shut. She opened the door to the driver’s seat, sat down, and for a moment sat still without moving. When she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, she quickly started the car, not bothering to buckle her seat belt. She checked quickly to see the street was still empty from both ways, put the car in drive, drove a few feet, then turned around in a wide circle, rolling down the window as she did. When she passed by the apartment building again, she stuck her hand out the driver’s side window and flipped off the young man standing at the balcony of the apartment they used to share. She let her hand, middle finger up, stick out of the window until she got to the end of the block. She took a right turn, then a left.

When she was several blocks away, she pulled over onto the side of the road. She felt the tears threatening to breach the dam, but she took several deep breaths, and they ebbed away again. With mostly steady hands, she fastened her seat belt, pulled out her phone and flipped through a few songs until she found the playlist she wanted. The phone took a second to connect to her car’s Bluetooth. Ginny opened the glove box and pulled out a mostly empty pack of cigarettes, placed one between her lips and lit it, hitting play on the stereo. The first song began to play right away, no musical intro. She exhaled, letting the first words of the song out along with the smoke.

_Well I get dressed in the dark each day_

_Used to think that was so sweet_

_By 6 AM I’m in the car driving._

Ginny starts driving again, singing as she drives, dropping her ash out the window.

_I keep my change in the car ashtray_

_I haven’t smoked in years and years_

_But lately I’ve been craving._

By the time she’s pulled up in front of the house, the tears are threatening to fall again, and the cigarette is almost burnt out. She lingered in the car, singing the chorus one more time.

_I don’t know how to pull you back_

_I don’t know how to pull you close_

_All I know is how to wreck you_

_Something between us changed_

_Not sure if it’s me or you_

_But lately all I do seems to wreck you_

Ginny finally turned off the car, pitched the butt on the sidewalk, rolled up the window, got out of the car, stomping on the cigarette butt on her way up the walk, past the gate, up to the front door. She rang the bell, waiting on the porch. She glanced at the bike rack; only one bike was left. She rang the bell again.

A thunder of steps approached the door. The door was opened by a tall, skinny young man with dark brown hair and pale green eyes. “Hello,” he said, smiling. He had a cleft chin and one dimple on the right side of his mouth. “You ok?”

“Is Ron here?”

“I don’t think so.” His eyes wandered over her red hair. “You’re his sister, right? Ginny?”

Something about the sound of her name overflowed the dam. She burst into tears, leaning forward to rest her head on his chest.

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. After a moment, his arms came up to surround her, one hand tentatively stroking her hair. “It’s ok. Whatever it is, it’s gonna be ok. Come inside, we’ll call your brother.”

She shook her head, “No, he’s probably at work. I shouldn’t bother him.” She lifted her head, and laughed at the sight of his T-shirt, spotted with her tears. “Sorry about your shirt.”

“No worries, it’ll dry. Come on inside, at least. I’ll make you a cup of tea. You can have one of Luna’s cinnamon rolls.”

She nodded. “Ok. That sounds nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m Neville, by the way.”

Neville leads the way to the kitchen, and Ginny, despite having just violently gotten out of a relationship, couldn’t help but to check out his rear. A little skinny, but nice.

Within a few minutes, with a warm cinnamon roll and a hot cup of tea, Ginny laughs as Neville tells her about his latest shift at the bookstore. “And this lady starts yelling at me, asking why a T-shirt is almost $40, like I set the prices!”

Ginny giggled, sipping her tea. “Seriously! It’s the same thing at the bar. ‘Can I get a rum and Coke? Make it strong.’ Well, do you want a double or not? That’s the only way you’re getting a stronger drink. ‘Of course not, I don’t want to pay extra.’ Then you’re getting a regular drink, asshole.”

The front door opened. Harry, Ron, and another young man Ginny didn’t recognize, with pale blond hair, came into the house carrying boxes. When Ron saw Ginny, he grinned.

“Hey, Ginny! What brings you around? Mom nagging at you to visit me again?”

He set the box down by the door, Harry and the blonde tramped up the stairs. Ron walked into the kitchen, caught sight of her face and froze.

“Dean did that to you?” he asked, tilting her chin up to look at the bruise under her eye.

Ginny shrugged. “I kicked him in the balls, if it makes you feel any better.”

“That fucking asshole. I’ll go get your stuff. You can move in here.”

“Is that guy moving into the attic? Sounds like you’re all full.”

“We’ll figure something out. You can’t go back there.”

“Of course I won’t. But I can find something else.”

“No.” Ron’s voice was firm. “You’re staying here. If I have to sleep on the floor and give you my bed, you’re staying here.”

Ginny smiled, standing up and wrapping her arms around Ron’s waist, her head resting against his chest. She knew her head barely reached his collarbone, but could still remember the days when they were the same height, since they were barely a year apart in age.

Ginny let her brother go, sniffling a little, but otherwise dry-eyed. She smiled up at him. “Thanks. Knew I could count on you.”

Ron ruffled her hair. “Let me unload Draco’s stuff and we’ll go back for yours. Unless you don’t want to go, I would be happy to go by myself.”

“No, I’ll go. He’ll be at work, anyway.”

Ron nodded. “You working tonight?”

“No, it’s my day off.”

“All right, we’ll have a little party. Watch a movie, get drunk, whatever you want to do. You want pizza?”

Ginny grinned. “Sure. Pineapple and sardines.”

Ron grimaced. “I know you’re joking, but that’s disgusting.” He turned and left the kitchen, carried his box upstairs.

Ginny turned back to Neville, smiling. “Well, I guess we’ll be roomies.”

Neville smiled, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes. “I’m sorry about why you have to move in, though. You sure you’re ok?”

Ginny dug her knuckles against her eyes, a gesture lacking all tenderness, a holdover from childhood. She caught herself doing it and smiled, stuck her hands in her pockets. “Yeah, I’ll be all right. I’m going to go help Draco move, whoever that is.”

“I’ll help.”

Draco greeted Ginny solemnly. Ginny liked him, despite his formal manners and expensive furnishings. He was clearly down on his luck, if he was moving in here, and Ginny found that endearing. She brought the last box up to the attic while Ron, Harry, and Neville wrestled with the full-sized mattress. The narrow stairs were making it especially difficult.

“Good thing there’s already a box spring up here,” Draco observed. “You’d never get that up the stairs. How did this one get up here?”

“Knowing the house, it’s probably been up here for decades,” she joked, setting the box down on the small Ikea desk. “It’s a nice room, though, and they’re good people. You’ll like it here.”

“So Ron’s your brother?”

“Yep. Harry’s his best friend, I’ve known him since middle school. He and Ron and Hermione have been inseparable since 6th grade.”

“Can’t believe I never met you guys. We went to the same high school.”

“Yeah, I mean, I knew who you were. But just by reputation.”

Draco grimaced. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He stood aside as Harry and Ron wrestled the mattress into the room and onto the bed frame.

As they all tramped downstairs, Hermione and Luna came in the front door. “Ginny, I thought that was your car!” Hermione exclaimed, then cried out at the sight of her cheek. Ron quickly explained the situation, and Hermione shook her head.

“That fucking bastard. Ginny, are you ok? You’re going to stay with us, right?”

“We’re going to get her stuff right now,” Ron interjected.

“Well, you can stay in the front room for now. The couch folds out. You can slide the doors shut whenever you want privacy. And please stay as long as you want.”

“We’re going to have pizza and watch a movie tonight,” Ron said, “so let me know what toppings everyone wants.”

Luna pulled Ginny into a hug as everyone started talking over one another. Ginny was a little surprised, although she knew she shouldn’t be. Luna hugged everyone, all the time. But when the shorter blonde went up on tiptoe to whisper in her ear, Ginny went very still, struggling to hear over the din.

“Welcome home,” the young girl whispered, and Ginny felt the tears threatening to flow once more.


	6. Ron: I’ll Be Here in the Morning by Townes Van Zandt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s lots of things along the road I’d surely like to see  
> I’d like to lean into the wind and tell myself I’m free  
> But your softest whisper’s louder than the highway’s call to me  
> Close your eyes I’ll be here in the morning  
> Close your eyes I’ll be here for a while

Ron ended up getting four pizzas, cheese for Luna, Cho, and Draco, ham and mushrooms for Ginny, which Ron would also eat begrudgingly, pepperoni for Neville and Harry, and barbeque chicken pizza for Hermione and Ron. Luckily, Ron got a good employee discount. They spread the pizzas out on the coffee table in the TV room, filled glasses with soda, and turned on the television as they began to eat

Ginny had picked The Princess Bride, which everyone quickly named as their favorite movie. There wasn’t enough room for everyone to sit, so there was some arranging before the movie started. The TV room had one couch wide enough for four people in a pinch, a love seat, and one arm chair that had been moved to a corner to give the other pieces of furniture better views of the TV. Luna and Cho ended up sitting on the floor with their backs to the couch, curled up together in a few blankets. Hermione and Luna sat in the middle of the couch, legs curled up so Luna and Cho could lean back. Draco and Neville bookended the two girls on the couch, Neville next to Ginny, Draco next to Hermione. Ron and Harry ended up on the loveseat.

Cho hit play on the DVD, and the movie started to the sound of Fred Savage coughing, video game noises in the background. Cho leaned her head on Luna’s shoulder, whispering that she always forgot that this movie started with the little boy home sick. His grandpa came in soon to read him the most exciting, adventurous, romantic story of all time. Ron glanced out of the corner of his eye at the occupants of the couch. They were all watching the movie raptly, Cho and Luna fairly oblivious to everyone else. Hermione appeared to have shifted her head slightly onto Draco’s shoulder, while Ginny had shamelessly sprawled on Neville’s lap, her feet nestled under Hermione’s legs.

The loveseat was more or less perpendicular to the TV, so Harry and Ron had turned to the left to be able to see the TV, Ron sitting with his back to the arm of the small sofa. Since no one spared them a second glance, Ron took the opportunity to pull Harry back against his chest, left arm around Harry’s shoulders. Harry leaned his head back to grin at Ron, his hand reaching up to rest on Ron’s hand on his collarbone.

Watching the movie quickly devolved into a quote-along competition, not that anybody minded. Ron got a kick of how much everyone enjoyed the simple flick, and how well everyone could remember the words. Ron had never had a very good memory for that sort of thing, but he tried to play along. Just after Wesley was imprisoned in the Pit of Despair, Luna paused the movie and ran out of the room without explanation. Everyone was baffled for a minute, until she returned with a bottle of peach Schnaaps and shot glasses.

Ron groaned, he and Harry sitting up to take the shots Luna handed to them.

“Rules of the game,” Luna said as she finished doling out the sweet liquor. “Ginny gets to be in charge of the remote. When she pauses, you have to say the next line. Doesn’t have to be perfect, but you have to get pretty close. If you can’t say the line, or if you mess up too badly, or if Ginny just feels like it, you have to take your shot.”

“You’re cut off after 3, no alcohol poisoning is a house rule,” Hermione amended and Luna nodded.

Ginny hit play, and everyone recited along as they remember, as the evil Count tortured Wesley by sucking a year of his life away. Ginny hit pause after the Count asked Wesley, “What did this do to you?”

“Cho!” Ginny said.

“Remember, this is for posterity, so be honest?”

Ginny un-paused and the Count said, soberly, “Tell me. And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest.”

The group cheered. The next scene, Prince Humperdink informed the cowardly What’s-His-Name about fake threats against the princess’s life. The Prince informed the weasel that the Thieves’ Forest must be emptied on the day of his wedding, and the rat said, “It won’t be easy.” Ginny paused, and tapped on Neville’s knee, saying his name with glee. Neville sputtered for a minute before everyone chanted, enthusiastically, “Shot!” Neville took his shot with bravado, and Ginny un-paused.

“Try ruling the world sometime!” the Prince, and the rest of the group, all except Neville and Ron, chorused.

They continued on, pausing every few minutes. Ron missed two of his lines, Harry missed one, Luna and Cho missed one each, and Neville and Draco missed two. Only Ginny and Hermione hadn’t missed any. After a few times, Ginny turned the remote over to Cho, so she could play too.

When they came to the wedding ceremony scene, with the Impressive Clergyman, Ginny told Cho to pause. “Come on, Ron,” she encouraged her brother. “You know this one!”

“Um, oh, I do! Mawwiage, Mawwiage is what bwings us togetheh here today!”

Everyone cheered, and Ginny declared that such a good performance called for shots all around. Ron didn’t quite see the logic in having to take a shot when he finally did remember one, but he joined in the frivolity, all the same. It felt like a long time since he’d seen Ginny smile, and he would do almost anything to keep her happy.

The game tapered off after the Miracle Max scene. Luna, Ginny, and Hermione recited the scene almost word-for-word, and everyone finished with, “Bye-bye boys! Have fun storming the castle!”

Everyone dissolved into giggles, and contented themselves with watching the final scenes, when the band of heroes fooled the goons, gained entry to the castle, Inigo got his revenge on the Count, Wesley found Buttercup and bested the Prince, and Buttercup, Wesley, Inigo, and Fezzik rode off on white horses, Wesley reaching for Buttercup and giving her the most passionate and pure kiss in history, after the Grandson reassured the Grandfather that he didn’t mind the kissing part. Ron leaned over and tipped Harry’s head back, sneaking a smooch onto his lips as the music swelled, and to his private amusement, he noticed Cho and Luna had similarly occupied themselves. Draco and Hermione looked slightly abashed, and Ginny looked like she would have liked to perform the same activity, head propped up on her elbow, gazing wistfully at the screen. Neville was gazing just as longingly at Ginny, but she didn’t see.

Ron couldn’t help but smile, though. He’d learned long ago that Ginny didn’t need his protection, and she would do as she liked, no matter what he thought. He liked Neville, and thoroughly approved of the sweet, worshipful expression Ron had caught on his face a few times when Ron was looking at Ginny and thought no one could see. He hoped one of them would be bold enough to make a move. His money was on Ginny.

Harry was conspicuously absent after the movie ended. Ron had seen him get up to go to the kitchen, but he hadn’t returned by the time Luna, Cho, Neville, and Draco headed upstairs to sleep. Ron and Hermione helped Ginny unfold the couch in the front room and put sheets and blankets on the bed for her. Hermione waved good night before Ron pulled Ginny in for a big bear hug.

“Sleep well, sis,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

He let her go and shut the rolling door behind him. He went back to the TV room, gathered up the leftover pizza, moving the extra slices into one box, and put the remaining box in the fridge for leftovers. He gathered up the shot glasses and put them in the sink, wiping up any spilled liquor from the coffee table. Then he turned to his room, opening the door and flipping on a lamp.

As he had thought, Harry was curled up on his bed, glasses folded up on the nightstand, green eyes watching him, a small smirk on his lips. Ron shut the door behind him, noticing the flashes of bare skin peeking out beneath the comforter wrapped around Harry’s slim frame.

“Wondered where you’d gone off to? Are you naked?” Ron was already kicking off his shoes, pulling off his T-shirt. He set his phone on the nightstand, plugged in the charger and his speakers, hit play. A gritty voice began to sing:

_Tell me now baby is he good to you_

_And can he do to you the things that I do?_

_I got a bad desire_

_Oh oh oh I’m on fire_

Harry snickered as Ron pulled off pants and underwear, sliding into bed. “Is that Bruce Springsteen?”

Ron moved to crouch above Harry, beginning to devour his mouth, then pulling back slightly. “You got something against the Boss?”

Harry shook his head. “Never thought it would be the soundtrack for a gay tryst.”

Ron pulled back the covers, thrilling a little at the sight of Harry’s lean body, slender hips that quivered under his touch, erection already full and throbbing. “That’s the thing about Springsteen, he transcends things like gay or straight. It’s not about that. It’s just about raw passion, finding someone to care for, to care for you.”

He kissed Harry, brushing back the other boy’s messy raven locks, pulling back to look into his sparkling emerald eyes. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

A blush rose on Harry’s cheeks and Ron grinned, reaching down to wrap his hand around Harry’s cock. Harry gasped lightly, eyes squeezing shut.

“Will you fuck me tonight?” Harry asked breathily, mouth open and panting slightly as Ron pumped his hand up and down Harry’s cock once.

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?” Ron quipped, letting go of Harry’s cock and bringing his hand up to Harry’s mouth, running his thumb across Harry’s lips. Harry pulled Ron’s thumb into his mouth, sucking gently.

Ron reached over to the nightstand, pulling a condom from the drawer. Harry pulled it from Ron’s hands, unwrapping and rolling the condom down Ron’s cock in quick, practiced movements. Ron tended to fumble with condoms, but Harry’s hands were nimble. Maybe too nimble, Ron thought with a grin.

Harry flipped over, and Ron reached over to the nightstand again, this time to grab a container of lube from the drawer. He applied a little to his cock, which was already fairly slippery from the lubrication on the condom. He put more on one finger and slipped it inside of Harry, who moaned slightly. Ron worked his finger and in and out, then added a little more lube, to two fingers this time, and reinserting. Once Ron was sure Harry was sufficiently loosened and lubricated, he removed his fingers, wiped his hand with a tissue, and positioned himself behind Harry on his knees.

Slowly, he pushed the head of his penis into Harry’s ass, the tight hole reluctantly opening to him. Harry groaned low.

“Is that ok?” Ron asked, pausing. When Harry’s head dipped up and down, Ron resumed, pushing gently until a few more inches of his modest six inches was inside Harry. This time, Harry’s voice was closer to a moan of pleasure than a sound of pain, but Ron stopped to make sure Harry was still ok.

Then he pushed in the rest of the way, his hips flush against Harry’s round ass. Ron couldn’t help fondling it while he paused, letting Harry get acclimated to his cock. Harry made a sound, a cross between a moan and a chuckle, and wiggled his ass against Ron, who adjusted position slightly, leaning forward to prop himself up against the headboard. At this angle, he was able to reach down with one hand to Harry’s cock, still very erect and swollen.

“Let me know if you want me to stop,” he murmured in Harry’s ear, surprised to hear how raspy and his voice sounded in his ear, husky with pleasure. Harry nodded again, a light moan escaping his lips as Ron’s cock withdrew slightly before pushing back in, never completely pulling out.

Ron thrust into Harry slowly at first, always pausing a second each time he pushed all the way in, just a moment to let Harry adjust, then out and in again, pause. After a few minutes, Ron’s pace was slowly quickening, only pausing every few thrusts, now partly for Harry’s benefit and partly for his own, to fully enjoy the feeling of Harry’s walls quaking around his cock, reveling in the sounds Harry was making, low and lusty.

Ron still had his body weight propped up on his left hand, leaving his right hand free to wander up and down Harry’s body, from his slim hips, muscled thighs, lean stomach and chest, up to clutch Harry’s shoulder as Ron increased his pace.

He found himself murmuring Harry’s name into his ear, as his climax began to build. That surprised him a little, too. He wasn’t normally one to speak much during sex, except to make sure he wasn’t causing too much pain. He kept those check-ins quick and brief, the talking rarely a turn-on for him. If he was with someone who liked dirty talk during sex, he’d make an effort, but it wasn’t his preference.

Harry choked back a cry, head thrown back, Ron’s teeth brushing against Harry’s neck. “I’m going to cum soon.”

Ron groaned. “Can I taste it?”

Harry nodded, eyes squeezed tightly.

Ron gently pulled out, and Harry flipped over, lying on his back as Ron knelt over him. Ron barely got there in time, Harry’s seed spilled out in spurts, landing on Ron’s face and on Harry’s belly. Harry cried out in pleasure as Ron’s mouth lowered onto his cock, sucking the last drops from him. Once Harry was done, Ron gently licked up the last beads of semen from Harry’s stomach and thighs.

Harry kissed Ron then, pushing up to his elbows to reach him. He licked up all the cum from Ron’s face, kissing him deeply, tongues dancing. Then Harry pushed Ron onto his back, reached down and pulled off the condom, taking Ron into his mouth. Ron groaned as his cock pushed against the back of Harry’s throat. It didn’t take long before he was peaking, hands buried in Harry’s hair as he filled his mouth, hips bucking against Harry’s face. Harry swallowed, breathing deeply as he came up slightly, gagging lightly from Ron’s cock bursting against the back of his throat.

Ron pulled Harry up to him, kissing him gently, running his hands through Harry’s hair and down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was so close.”

Harry grinned against Ron’s mouth, opening his eyes to look down at Ron, eyes glinting wickedly.

“You just went off like a bomb. I can’t believe you had so much, you just came last night.”

Ron shrugged, smiling softly as he pulled Harry down to lie next to him. He pulled the slender man to his chest, wrapping his arms around his thin shoulders. Harry burrowed his head into Ron’s chest, clutching at Ron’s back like a drowning man to a life raft.

Ron leaned forward and murmured in Harry’s ear, “You just seem to have that effect on me, I guess.”

Harry stilled, not looking at Ron. After a few false starts, he spoke so low Ron could hardly hear.

“What are we now, Ron? We’ve always been best friends, but I don’t think best friends do this.”

Ron chuckled. “No, I guess they don’t.”

“Are we friends with benefits? Or…”

His voice trailed off, but Harry didn’t have to finish his sentence. Ron could fill in the gaps.

Ron thought for a few minutes, picking his words carefully. He finally rolled onto his back, pulling Harry to his chest. “You know- you know I’m not that good with words. I don’t know how I feel about labels. They seem to come with expectations and rules, so I don’t use them. All I know is that I like you. And I would like to keep you around, as long as I can. As long as you’ll put up with me,” he chuckled.

Harry turned his face up towards Ron, kissing the underside of Ron’s chin, searching for Ron’s mouth. “I’ll have you. I’ll always have you.”

Ron felt a choke in his throat. He shut his eyes, trying to lock this feeling into his memory, into his soul. How it felt to hold his slim frame, feel him tremble beneath Ron's touch, the way his heart skipped a beat whenever Harry grinned at him, the way his black hair fell into his eyes, the way his lips felt, pressed against Ron’s, the way Harry looked at him like he would never, could never feel this way with anyone else.

 _I will not ruin this_ , Ron thought, _the way I ruin everything._

Ron tilted his face down to look at Harry, letting the eager young man capture his lips with his own, tongue slipping into Ron’s mouth to lap gently at Ron’s tongue. Ron pressed his hand to Harry’s cheek, fingers caressing the soft skin.

The song had changed to a mellow folk song, just a man’s voice accompanied by a sweet, slow guitar. Ron listened to the words, as if for the first time. He sang to Harry, gently and slightly off-key:

_Close your eyes, I’ll be here in the morning_

_Close your eyes, I’ll be here for a while_


	7. Cho: Baby Baby by Amy Grant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby, baby  
> In any kind of weather  
> I'm here for you always and forever

Cho woke up Saturday morning, stretched, and looked at the sunlight beaming in through the window in slants. Cho grinned as she remembered what day it was. Party day.

She kicked off the covers, stood and opened the door. Luna had slept in her own bed last night, having stayed up late reading. They often had different sleep schedules, one reason why they still maintained different rooms, despite having been together for almost two years now. Every once in a while, they talked about getting an apartment together, but they would want a two-bedroom, to maintain their individual autonomy and privacy, something they couldn’t currently afford on their minimum wage salaries.

Cho crept across to Luna’s room and opened the door. The room was still dark, the curtains drawn against the morning sun. Cho closed the door and crossed to the bed, slipping in under the covers, cuddling up to Luna’s back. Luna moaned slightly, and rolled over, throwing an arm around Cho’s waist.

“What time is it?”

“8 AM. What time did you go to bed last night?”

Luna yawned. “Around 2 AM.”

Cho grinned, “And did you finish?”

Luna smiled sleepily. “I did. _Special Topics in Calamity Physics_. It was really good. I really identified with the main character, Blue.” Luna sighed. “I wish I could write like that.”

Cho ran her fingers through Luna’s fine blonde hair, like corn silk. “You will. I have faith in you. Someday you’ll be a famous writer.”

Luna sighed, finally opening her china blue eyes and looking at Cho. As always, Cho caught her breath at Luna’s beauty. Heart-shaped face, rosy cheeks sloping down to a pointed chin, like a cat. Her eyes were wide and large, framed with dark lashes, the color a pale, icy blue that managed to warm Cho all the way through. Cho’s eyes fell to Luna’s lips, plump, rich pink, shaped in a perfect cupid’s bow. Cho leaned forward, covering Luna’s lips with her own, squeezing her eyes shut as she opened her mouth, her tongue exploring Luna’s mouth.

Luna moaned against Cho’s mouth. Cho opened her eyes, reveling in the dreamy, dazed expression in Luna’s eyes. Cho leaned back and Luna yawned sweetly, lids falling closed again, opening for a moment, then falling again, like they each weighed a ton.

“You want to go back to bed, kitty cat?” Cho asked, kissing Luna’s cheeks.

Luna nodded, burrowing into her comforter.

“Ok. I’m going out to get party supplies. You want anything?”

“Cranberry juice? Maybe some of those little pita chips I like?”

“Of course. Text me if you think of anything else.”

Luna nodded, leaning forward to kiss Cho again, rubbing her nose against Cho’s, making a little purr noise deep in her throat.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

Cho stood and went to the door. Luna was snoring softly before Cho shut the door behind her. She crossed to her room, dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a tank top, and went downstairs. The house was still quiet at this hour, and it was Cho’s favorite time to sit in the kitchen, a cup of coffee and some toast for breakfast, going through her phone. She always spent fifteen minutes in the morning looking through Instagram, at the artists she admired, all the art she loved that she was sure was way better than anything she could create. After minute minutes, she closed the app, locked her phone, and stood up from the table.

Her high school art teacher had suggested that. She said there was a fine line between being inspired by other artists and psyching yourself out. “Fifteen minutes, early in the morning. Then you put it away, and in the afternoon, you make your own art. And I know you will, but try not to compare yourself to them. That’s the whole part of art, right? To make your own art, right? Be your own person.”

Cho left the house, putting her keys and wallet into an empty backpack. She unlocked the combination lock on her bike, carried it through the tiny yard. She started pedaling to the grocery store three blocks away. The morning was a little colder than it had been yesterday, autumn’s chill just beginning to creep in. She was glad she had grabbed a cardigan before leaving. The sun creeping over the houses, plus the exercise, soon warmed her. Cho coasted down the gently descent of the street, pedaling occasionally to keep up speed.

She spotted a tree at the end of the street, and gently applied her brakes, transfixed at the sight. She coasted to a stop, one foot touching the pavement, supporting her weight as she stared. It was an old tree, hardly any living branches left. In this area of town, lawn maintenance wasn’t much of a priority, and the tree was set back from the street, so the city didn’t worry about the dead limbs falling on the power lines. A few limbs still survived, with a small smattering of leaves. It had always reminded Cho of a wizened old man, only a few teeth left, a sparse mop of hair sprouting from his head. Growing up the side was some kind of vine or ivy, probably a parasite, maybe the reason why the tree had died. The cold snap had affected the vine, causing most of the leaves to turn bright red. The contrast of the leaves and the deep dark brown of the dead tree and limbs, and then the bright green of the few leaves clinging to life, struck Cho. Life and death, she supposed, all tangled up in one beautiful image.

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and took several pictures, not moving from her bike, but zooming into different areas of the tree, finding different aspects to focus on, a tendril of the vine wrapped around a low branch, a red leaf and a green leaf growing side by side, like sisters. After taking ten or so pictures, Cho locked her phone again, stuck it back in her back pocket, and pedaled on. The image stayed in the back of her mind as she shopped at the grocery store for snacks and cranberry juice, plus a bottle of vodka for them to share at the party. When she biked past the tree, she didn’t stop again, she had to peddle harder to get up the hill. She turned her head to look at the tree again, filed away the memory of how the light looked different on the leaves now, the way it lit up the red, deepened the green to a rich emerald.

Back in her room, Cho put a new canvas on her easel. She flipped through the pictures on her phone, then pulled up Spotify and put on some music. Lorde was her perennial favorite, insightful enough to stoke her creativity, but upbeat and fun and young.

She turned to the easel, squeezed a pat of sienna brown onto her pallet, mixed it with a little ox blood and a dot of black until it turned a dark chestnut brown. She picked up the paint with a fresh brush and dragged it down the canvas, making a wavy line. She placed the plume of the brush a few inches away, midway down the canvas, and dragged it down more or less parallel to the first mark, making the outline of the trunk of a tree.

Using short brushstrokes, she filled in the outline, creating the rough texture of the bark of the tree. She created a short root system, started on the amputated branches. Before the paint had a chance to dry, she started outlining knots in a darker shade of brown with a thin brush.

Cho heard the door open, Luna started singing along as she shut the door behind her, looking over Cho’s shoulder at the painting. “It’s pretty. And kind of sad.”

Cho stood back to look at it, rinsing her brush off in a can of diluted paint thinner, drying it with a spare rag. “Yeah, I guess it is sad. But when it’s done, there’ll be bright red leaves growing here and here” she used one hand to point out where she planned to paint the ivy.

Luna wrapped her arms around Cho’s waist, kissing Cho’s neck softly.

Lorde sang as the chorus picked up, the beat thrumming softly:

_But I hear sounds in my mind_

_Brand new sounds in my mind_

_But honey I’ll be seeing you, ever, I go_

_But honey I’ll be seeing you down every road_

Cho turned around in Luna’s arms, wrapped her hands around Luna’s neck, bouncing on the beats of the last line, “I’m waiting for it, that green light, I want it!” they both sang, then fell into giggles, dancing around Cho’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter ends kind of abruptly. I was originally going to have it lead directly into the party, which is a multiple character chapter with more of an omniscient third person narrator, rather than the third person limited narrator I've been using up to this point. But it was getting pretty long, so I thought I'd go ahead and split it up. Next chapter should be done soon.


	8. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this is a long one! But I really wanted to capture what everyone is thinking and feeling.
> 
> Also, I made a playlist, if anyone wants to follow along with the songs used. Hope you like it!
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3USHK875nBnLT1oqkH8z3L?si=txyyZ7-sQOObMvnO2_T3mQ
> 
> Added tags for smoking pot and drinking, possibly underage considering they're only juniors and sophomores in college/university. Where i live, that would mean you're underage, but if you have an England head cannon, then you're probably good to go. Some drinking, but no alcohol abuse, and a lot of dancing, which is hard to describe, so i hope this is easy to follow.

Around 7 PM, as people started to show up and mix drinks in red Solo cups, their names written in Sharpie on the outside, Luna placed her laptop on a desk by the front door, connecting to a network of Bluetooth speakers, one in the kitchen, the hallway, the front porch and back yard, two in the TV room and front sitting room. The doors separating the front two rooms had been thrown open as Luna started the Party playlist, a group list the whole house contributed to. Luna hit shuffle, and the first song started, one of Cho’s picks.

Slim arms snaked around Luna’s waist, one hand holding a drink up to Luna, vodka cranberry, her favorite. _Luna_ was written on the cup in flowery script, leaves and flowers drawn all around the outside.

Luna took a sip, then set the cup on the desk to turn and kiss Cho, the first flush of alcohol and the infectious music bringing a blush to her cheeks.

Cho grinned as she swayed along to the music. “Did you pick my favorite song on purpose?”

Luna took a gulp of her drink, grabbed Cho’s hands and pulled her closer to dance. “Of course not, it just came up on shuffle.”

She started to sing to Cho, “Standing beneath the flickered lights, when I shut my eyes you seem closer.”

Cho joined in: “Dancing to keep the tears away, Get this heavy weight off my shoulder”

_You and I_

_You don’t wanna talk about it_

_You don’t wanna talk aobut_

_You and I_

_We don’t ever talk about it_

_But in my head_

_Oh you say, say you still want it_

_That you’re done being lonely now_

_It’s you and I_

_You and I_

Draco stood in the sitting room, watching Luna and Cho, lips curled in a smirk. Their joy was infectious, even just watching them made Draco want to move, much to his surprise. Draco wasn’t a dancer, or a partier. Draco wasn’t much of a drinker, either. But that didn’t stop him from tapping a finger to the beat on the side of his red plastic cup, the cup Hermione had given him with a smirk. He didn’t know how she’d selected it for him, but it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. She’d told him what it was, so he could make another when he wanted, grape vodka and Sprite, with just a splash of grape liqueur.

Draco looked around the room, and instantly felt his spirits flag. Who was he kidding? All these people, this was not his scene at all. The furniture had been moved out of the center of the room, for dancing or something? Just the thought made Draco cringe.

He gravitated towards the edges of the room, where bookcases stood side-by-side. Draco noticed there were seven of them, some full, some not as much, one empty. Draco was standing near a fuller one, he perused the titles to keep from having to socialize. Alice in Wonderland, Beauty and the Beast, The Secret Garden, Chronicles of Narnia, Hans Christian Anderson fairy tales. The books were all out of order, too, or arranged in some order he couldn’t discern. Then there was a shelf of biography, mostly journalists, and other nonfiction: Gloria Steinem, Woodward and Bernstein, Cheryl Strayed, Malala. Draco’s eyes darted to Luna, still dancing with Cho.

He moved onto the next bookcase, neat and orderly, books alphabetized by author’s last name, Austen, Bronte, Cather, du Maurier, Flynn, Hoffman, Hurston. Draco smiled, pulling A Wrinkle in Time forward to glance at the cover. It was an old, well-worn copy, the cover showing Meg, Calvin, and Charles Wallace standing, Mrs. Who, assuming the form of a winged centaur standing behind them, the children clutching calla lilies as they gazed out at the evil Darkness blotting out the stars, looks of brave determination on their scared faces.

“Read that book in the fourth grade. It’s been my favorite ever since.” Draco turned to see Hermione at his side, grinning, holding a cup of some amber liquid.

“Your books?” he asked, motioning as he pushed the book back into place. Hermione nodded.

“You have good taste.”

Hermione beamed, and Draco thought that he had definitely hit upon one of her hobbies.

“Feel free to borrow any whenever you want.”

A new song started; bright brass horns gusted against a backdrop of driving bass. Gleeful shouts came from some party-guests as Harry, apparently a few drinks in, sauntered to the middle of the room, grabbing Ginny by the hands with him. She made a show of protesting, but soon began to dance with Harry, giggling the whole time. Harry struck a kind of Saturday Night Fever disco pose and Ginny copied him, standing shoulder to shoulder, then they broke into synchronized hip thrusts and arm swings. They transitioned fairly seamlessly to an old move Draco seemed to remember from middle school dances, holding their arms, bent at the elbow, in front of their faces, rotating their arms out in circles over and over, first to the right, then to the left, back and forth a few times. Then Harry started doing something Draco vaguely remembered as the Monkey, pumping his fists up and down, first to the right, then to the left, as Ginny drew peace signs over her eyes, shimmying her hips back and forth.

Harry grabbed Ginny, spun her around so her back was flush against his chest, pointed around them, mouthing to the words as the first verse began.

_Take a look around the room_

_Love comes wearing disguises_

Harry grabbed on of Ginny’s hands, twirled her around, pulled her in for a sloppy cha-cha.

_How to go about and choose?_

_Break it down by shapes and sizes_

_I’m a man who’s got very specific taste_

The chorus started again, the same upbeat trumpet melody from the intro, and Harry and Ginny broke apart and started their disco dance again. Ginny could hardly keep up anymore, she was laughing too hard, and Harry seemed to have also lost steam, so they dissolved into giggles. Others in the party took up the tune, jumping to the chorus “You know you’re Just MY TYPE!!!”

Draco grinned, the feeling of the crowd kind of infectious, and took another drink. Hermione bumped against him, hips swaying, arms above her head, eyes-half closed as she reveled in the rhythms. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, laughing, resting her hand on his arm.

“Are you having a good time?” she flashed him one of her toothy smiles, her eyes dancing.

Draco felt himself nodding, realizing he was actually stepping from side-to-side, mimicking her movements. Was he actually dancing?

He grinned at Hermione and took another swig of his drink, vodka freeing his inhibitions a little. He felt like he was watching himself put his hand on Hermione’s waist. She smiled at him, and moved closer, one hand moving to his chest, the other hand setting her empty cup down on an end table beside her, then resting on his shoulder.

When the next song started, a slower song, but still with a strong, steady rhythm, Hermione drew closer to him, resting her cheek against his, his arms drawing around her waist.

Ginny headed to the kitchen to fix herself another drink, still laughing from her dance with Harry. She found Neville also mixing himself a drink. Ginny smiled at him. “Enjoying the party?”

He shrugged. “Not really my kind of music. A little too dance club for me. You and Harry an item?”

Ginny froze for a moment, her hands on the bottle of rum. “No, we used to date in high school. Nowadays, we’re just friends and he’s head over heels for my brother.”

“Ron?”

“Yep. I don’t know if it’s common knowledge, but they were practically spooning on the sofa the other day during The Princess Bride. Didn’t you notice?”

Neville shook his head.

“Besides, what’s it to you? Are you jealous?”

Neville looked uncomfortable, fidgeting with a pile of beer caps, but didn’t say anything. Ginny smiled. “I’m just kidding.”

He seemed to relax, shoulders slumping. “I’m not jealous. Just wondering.”

Ginny finished pouring her drink. “I’m single for now.” She turned and danced out of the kitchen, to join the pulsing group of dancers in the front room. She noticed someone had turned the lights down, more in fitting with the dance club vibes of the next song, an all-male cover of 2 Become 1.

_Come a little bit closer, baby. Get it on, get it on_

_Cause tonight is the night, when 2 become 1_

The cover had a funky beat that Ginny lost herself in, arms moving slowly above her head, taking sips from her drink periodically. She was getting good and buzzed now, at the fun part where she hardly cared what she looked like. She turned and saw Neville standing around the edge of the room, held her hand out to him.

“C’mere!” she called, using her most enticing smile and sway of her hips. Neville looked reluctant. “Oh, come on! It’s not my favorite music, either! Live a little!”

He finally gave in and came closer to her, though he still stood stoically, hardly moving. Ginny decided it was her mission just to make him laugh. She started doing her half of the partially-choreographed disco number she had done with Harry, a direct copy of the dance they used to do in high school to make everyone laugh. Neville cracked a smile when she started rolling her arms, though his eyes followed the thrusting of her hips even as he shook his head, trying to make a hasty retreat. Ginny grabbed his arms to prevent him, put his arms around her waist as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t like disco?” she asked, laughing.

“Does anyone?”

She gaped, pretending to be shocked and offended.

The song changed then, a dramatic difference between the previous disco-beat to a slow-paced, dreamy tune, a woman’s breathy vocals purring: _The day that I met you I started dreaming_.

If anything, Neville looked more uncomfortable when Ginny started slow dancing with him, humming under her breath. “You want to go get a smoke with me?” she asked.

Neville shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

Ginny grinned. “It’s not tobacco!”

Neville nodded, understanding now. “Sure.”

They made their way through the crowd, many headed to the kitchen for a refill or up to the bathroom, which had a bit of a line now. Ginny opened the desk drawer, fished out a metal cigarette case and a lighter, and led the way out the front door.

By the desk, Luna and Cho were standing with their arms around each other’s waists, swaying to the music. Luna’s head rested against the taller girl’s shoulder, singing along to the music.

_Baby tell me where you wanna go_

_Baby tell me whatcha wanna know_

_Give you everything I have and more_

They spun gently in their own cocoon, oblivious to anyone and everything around them. Cho ran her fingers through Luna’s wavy blonde waist-length hair, murmuring into the girl’s ear. Luna’s smile deepened, she tilted her head up to kiss Cho, soft and dreamy. She entwined her fingers with Cho’s, pulling her over to a couch that stood against the wall in the dining/study room. Cho sat down, and Luna straddled Cho’s lap, her lips covering Cho’s as the other girl’s hands closed around Luna’s waist.

Outside, Ginny pulled out a cigarette she had prepared earlier in the day, carefully digging out the tobacco and replacing with pot. Neville admitted to himself it was well-done, packed down tightly. He watched Ginny place the butt to her lips, light the end, puffing gently to get it started. The pot burned well.

A new song began to play, something more his style, gentle rhythm and soft guitar, deep gravely voice singing about a girl: _She is a little explosion of hope_.

Ginny handed him the cigarette, and he inhaled, the sweet, pungent smoke stinging his eyes, burning down his throat, but the familiar light-headedness hit him soon after. He passed the cigarette back, watching her walk down the empty porch, music spilling from a speaker hidden above his head. She sat down on the far end of the porch, on a concrete ledge, slipping off her flats before stretching her legs out in front of her. Neville followed, sat on the opposite side of the ledge, swinging his leg over so it hangs down the other side of the porch. Ginny took another drag, then passed it back to Neville.

After a few tokes, he felt himself relaxing, unwinding. Ginny must have felt it too. She grinned at him, burrowing her bare feet under his thighs.

_She likes to lay under the covers, oh_

_Pretend that everywhere’s our home_

_Keeps me warm right to my very soul_

_We get so tangled up, it’s hard to know_

_What is hers and what is my own_

Ginny offered him the final drag. He accepted it gratefully, feeling the buzz stealing over him, burning gently along every nerve until there was nothing left in him but warm loose languid muscles, calm relaxed sensations. He put out the cigarette, tossing it into an ash bucket. He looked at Ginny, gazing at him, her mouth curled in a smirk. She sat forward, scooting forward, crossing her legs.

“Feeling better?”

He nodded, eyes locked into hers, the greens of their eyes reflecting back at each other like the ocean reflecting the sky.

“I’m sorry, I know parties aren’t your thing.”

He shrugged one slender shoulder, laying one hand on Ginny’s thigh. “I’m a mess, sometimes. I’m not very social, I’m horribly awkward. I wish I wasn’t sometimes, but.” He trailed off.

A new song started, this one familiar to him. Mellow guitars, soft snare drum, a tambourine. Neville smiled, stood up, carefully folding his long leg as he moved it back over the ledge. He held his hand out to Ginny. “Dance with me?”

Ginny took his hand and stood. She only came up to his shoulder, so she wrapped her arms around his waist instead of his shoulders, resting her cheek against his chest. Neville tucked the top of her head under his chin, arms wrapped around her back, hands resting low on her waist.

They swayed gently as a young woman’s voice began to sing, low and husky.

_Come a little bit closer_

_Hear what I have to say_

_Just like children sleeping_

_We can dream the night away_

Ginny looked up at Neville, arched one eyebrow. “After this song… I thought maybe you might like to invite me to your room. I don’t care that you’re awkward. I like you, and I’d like to get to know you better, if that’s ok with you.”

Neville nodded and took Ginny’s hand, leading her back inside, up the stairs, past Luna and Cho locking lips on the sofa in the dining room, past the throng of dancers in the sitting room.

Inside, Hermione still danced with Draco, her arms around his neck, check to his cheek. She felt alive with the night, the low-light, the intoxicating effect of the music and Draco’s arms around her waist. She felt Draco’s breath on her neck, slow and ragged.

_When we were strangers_

_I watched you from afar_

_When we were lovers_

_I loved you with all my heart_

Hermione tilted her head back to look at him up close, one hand running through his pale white hair. “I thought you were indifferent to me.”

He seemed stunned by this, she could see his mouth open and grey eyes clouded. “No, never indifferent. I just-”

Hermione pushed her mouth forward the last few inches to meet his lips. His eyes closed, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck. Hermione backed up a few inches, reacting to the force of his body meeting hers, and her back bumped up against the bookshelf, rocking it slightly. A few books slid forward, spilling onto the floor. Draco broke the embrace and jumped backwards, looking around nervously.

“It’s ok, they’ve seen worse,” she said, but something in his face had changed, closed down.

A new song began, and it was like the Harvest Moon magic had dissipated. He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

He turned and crossed the floor, traced his way through the dancing couples. Hermione watched him go, wondering what had gone wrong. A woman’s voice began to sing, and Hermione bent to pick up the books, the words of the song rolling over her, like they had been rung from her heart.

_I thought I made it clear as crystal_

_It doesn’t have to be this hard_

_But you ain’t good at reading signals_

_When they come straight from the heart_

She put the books back on the shelf, then downed her drink. Harry spotted her and came over, holding two cups with one finger of amber liquid in the bottom of each.

“You all right? Here, I brought you another whiskey.”

Hermione tossed back the drink, threw the cup behind her. “Dance with me.”

Harry didn’t wait to be asked twice. He also downed the drink, threw the cup over his shoulder, hitting someone on the head, to Hermione’s delight, and grabbed Hermione’s hands. The song was slow-paced and not good for much else but slow-dancing, but Harry was inventive. He spun her around through the bridge: _You’ve been thinking, you’ve been thinking, overthinking, you’ve been thinking babe, just a little too much_. Then the chorus picked up, and he dropped her hands, executing a slow silly twist that Hermione followed along with, doing her own version of a jive. _I think you know what I want, I think you know, I’m waiting for you_.

The next song began, and Draco could hear the base pounding through the floor as he passed up the second flight of stairs to the third floor, after stopping in the bathroom to brush his teeth. He stopped on the landing before his door. He could no longer make out the music downstairs, but he heard something now, low voices and giggling, coming from the other side of Neville’s door. Was he the only weirdo? Was everyone else in the world having a good time tonight?

On the other side of his door, he looked around at the mostly bare room before collapsing on the bed. He kicked off his shoes, but did not otherwise undress. He stared up at the ceiling, remembering how nice Hermione’s skin had felt under his fingertips, the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. And she’d thought him indifferent to her, indifferent! As though he didn’t burn in his bed every night, wondering what a night with her would feel like.

Draco rolled over, feeling depressed and disappointed in himself. He clutched his pillow to his chest, feeling for the first time like he had a family, a real family that could possibly accept him for who he was, and he was losing it.

Downstairs, the party was starting to peter out. Hermione bopped along with Luna and Cho to a funky electronic cover of _Creep_ , the only ones still dancing in the front room. Most of the other guests were on the front porch, saying their good-byes before they left. Hermione was quite tipsy, now, something she hardly ever got. She sang along with Luna at full voice, “But I’m a creep! I’m a weirdo! What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here.”

After the song, Luna and Cho decided to take Hermione upstairs and help her to bed. Slowly, the others filtered out. Harry was standing in the living room, swaying tipsily to a mellow John Mayer song when the front door swung open. He was the only one still left on the floor when Ron came in.

Harry stared at him, as John sang about the storm before the calm.

“Where’ve you been?”

“I had to work,” Ron responded.

_Can’t seem to hold you like I want to_

_So I can feel you in my arms_

“Hogsmeade closed three hours ago. They’re still on their limited hours until school starts.”

“I had a late delivery.”

“And it took you three hours to get back?”

Ron was silent.

“I missed you.”

“I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you?”

Harry looked away, trying not to smile as Ron stepped forward, pulling Harry into him, his arms around the other’s waist. Ron started singing to him softly, not really matching the words, but singing wordlessly to the melody. Harry tried not to, but couldn’t help smiling as Ron nuzzled his cheek, kissing below his jaw gently.

_My dear we’re slow dancing in a burnin’ room_

_Don’t you think we outta know by now?_

_Don’t you think we shoulda learned by now?_

Ron took Harry’s hand and steered him to Ron’s room, shutting the door softly behind him. Luna came down after a few minutes to stop the music and lock up the house. The party was over.


End file.
